Anger, Guilt, Pride
by itonlytakesOneShot
Summary: Elle Greenaway hated cliches.


Elle Greenaway hated cliches. It was why she could never sit through the entirety of a romance movie, comedic or otherwise. You just knew the man of her dreams would end up being a douche and the other guy -more often than not, equally douchey- would prove he was 'different' and the two would ride off into the green screened sunset.

She hated cliches so much she refused to flirt back with the delivery man at the bar she worked at, so much that when she was invited to a rich party by a particularly rich guy, she refused to pay attention to anyone else the whole time. Granted, the guy had ended up being a _massive_ douche, but that was beside the point.

The point being: as much as she hated cliches, she was stuck in one.

She left her past behind, but she couldn't let it go.

It was the worst cliche she could possibly think of. It invaded her life, pushed her to anger and guilt and sometimes, an odd sense of pride.

Pride, when she heard on the news that Morgan had stood up to his childhood demons.

Guilt when she found out Gideon left, had she been part of the reason he had?

Anger when the search engine her computer was so used to brought up a story about a young FBI agent, caught in the clutches of a serial killer. She'd almost called that day, hell, she'd almost marched into that precinct and demanded they let her help find sweet, innocent Reid.

Elle had tried moving somewhere far away, where the past wouldn't taunt her, but couldn't seem to settle down. She even went back to Jamaica which had proved to be a mistake.

There were reminders everywhere, of Garner and what he'd done, of Hotch and the team, of _Morgan_. She saw him everywhere in the beach town she was staying in and she hated it. She hated that out of the whole team, he was the one who never judged her, who understood her. He'd been like the big brother she'd never had.

The fifth time she saw him she left on a plane with only one bag of belongings and hadn't returned for the rest.

Because that was her specialty right? Running.

For a while, it didn't get better. She'd wander aimlessly, wondering if she'd made a mistake.

And then, slowly, without her noticing, it got easier. She started to forget about her past, she got a new job, went back to college, married a great guy who never expected her to be okay one hundred percent of the time.

When she found out she was pregnant she'd screamed uncharacteristically giddily and picked up her phone. It wasn't long before she realized she'd scrolled to the 'G' section subconsciously.

That was the first time she'd cried for her team for anything other than anger or guilt. She cried because more than anything in that moment, she wanted to hear Garcia shriek in her adorable innocent way, she wanted to hug JJ back as Morgan and Reid congratulated her in the background, she wanted Gideon to nod at her, proud of the path she'd taken.

And maybe Hotch would've smiled.

So she called her husband instead, and cried with him, demons replaced with a promising future.

It was another year before she thought about them again.

Something came on the news, she'd almost missed it when a familiar name caught her attention.

Anger boiled inside her as the chirpy reporter recounted the capture and escape of George Foyet, the edges of her vision blurred black as she told the camera about the Unit Chief's wife who had been killed in her home.

Memories of Garner flooded her mind. Attacked in her own home. Hotch's wife killed in her own home.

 _Hotch._

He didn't deserve that. Stoic, fair, annoyingly good Hotch didn't deserve to hold his wife's lifeless body as the rest of the team took his son outside.

George Foyet turned his house into a crime scene. The same way Garner had.

 _That's not fair_ Elle thought, hands clenched into fists, _You didn't die_

That's when she knew she couldn't sit this one out. She dug her dusty go bag out of the back of her closet and packed it. Her husband understood, she loved him even more for it.

The flight to DC wasn't long. As much as she wanted to get away, she could never get far.

When she arrived at the airport the thought hit her that she had no idea where Hotch was and she couldn't just march into the BAU, it would cause too many problems.

Which left her with two choices: Go home, or do the one thing she'd promised herself she would never do again.

Profile.

She thought back through all the conversations with Haley she'd had, trying to remember every detail, _You're not Reid._ She shook the thought off and closed her eyes, putting herself through a cognitive interview.

" _We used to take walks in Virginia Park*, it's where he proposed"_

Elle opened her eyes, _there's a cemetery across the road from Virginia Park._

It wasn't until after she'd called a cab and given him instructions that she came to the realization that she had no idea if Hotch would be there, _So what? You'll just wait at his wife's_ grave _until he shows up?_

Once again, Elle ignored her thoughts. She would just have to wing it.

One thirty minute cab ride later and she was there. She heard music and watched as a hearse pulled up to the entrance. A black limo pulled up behind it, a few people stepped out and Elle got back in the cab.

 _What are you thinking?_ Her hands began to shake, _You can't crash her funeral! What are you going to say? "Hi, I know I haven't seen any of you in years but I saw what happened on the news and I got on a plane because-"_

Elle ignored the taxi drivers confused look, _because why Elle? Because you felt bad?_

She sat for almost an hour. Surprisingly, the driver sat with her. Out of compassion or curiosity, she wasn't sure. Either way, when the hearse pulled away and people went back to their cars, Elle payed the driver to follow.

She got out when they stopped a few blocks from the reception house. Elle doubted it was Hotch's choice, she remembered him saying something about Haley having a sister and guessed the decision was hers. She walked quickly to the small green area next to it, idling inconspicuously in a way only years of training in the FBI could teach her.

She stood against a tree for another hour. When she saw Morgan all but charge out the door, her stomach turned and she had to close her eyes for a few seconds. A man she recognized from FBI training programs followed, David Rossi, she believed. After him was a woman she supposed was her replacement, somehow, Elle didn't mind. She had a kind face.

When JJ and Reid walked down the driveway, she covered her mouth, they looked different then the last time she'd seen them. JJ was aged, her stride even more determined. Reid walked with a cane, leaving Elle to wonder what she'd missed. His hair was longer too, his shoulders weren't as tight with anxiety, tighter with grief.

But it was the sight of a softly crying Penelope Garcia that floored her, a few tears fell on her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly. They were soon replaced by others.

Penelope hadn't changed.

Everyone else, you could see the difference in their faces or their composure or their clothes. Not Garcia. Her hair was still frizzy and kept up with an assortment of barrettes. Her outfit was eccentric and her glasses glinted in the sun.

Elle hadn't even been close with Garcia. Sure, she respected what she could do for the team, that was really the extent of it… but after she'd left, she'd gotten a phone call from every member of the team, -excluding Hotch and Gideon- for at least a month. After the month was up, they stopped, all except one number. Penelope called her and left messages for almost eight months. Soon enough, they weren't filled with pleas for her to come back, they were motivational. She'd tell her to keep her head up, that she was doing great.

The last message she'd left, Penelope told her she was proud.

Elle had to dig her fingers into the trees bark to keep from running to them. She knew she couldn't because if she did, she was afraid she'd never be able to let them go again. She'd come for a reason and however painful it was, it wasn't to reconnect with them.

"You could come inside"

Elle jumped and spun, her breath hitching when Hotch walked up beside her, his eyes a soft shade of red, Elle couldn't imagine him crying.

"Hotch I- I heard what happened" she looked at the grass, wanting to say more.

Her ex-boss nodded. The profiler awakened inside Elle told her he was feeling the same as her, unable to find words for what they both wanted to say.

Finally, Hotch broke the silence, "Thank you for coming"

"I had to"

"No you didn't" Hotch put his hands in his pockets, "The team would've liked to see you"

Elle almost laughed, "Would they? I left Hotch. I left all of you, I didn't even-" she sighed, "The job broke me. That wasn't an excuse to betray my friends"

Hotch pointed at her left ring finger, a not so subtle way of changing the subject, "Married?"

This time, Elle did laugh, "Yeah, two years"

"Good"

"I have a little girl too" Elle shook her head, "Never thought I'd been one for kids"

And Hotch smiled.

That was enough for Elle, all the emotions, sadness, guilt, happiness, anger, everything she'd been feeling since she boarded the plane to DC. For the first time, Elle couldn't stop herself from crying in front of someone.

To her surprise, when she looked at Hotch, his eyes were wet too.

"I'm so sorry Aaron"

Hotch shook his head, "I'm sorry. I wasn't the leader I am now, I didn't help you like I should have. I pushed you away"

Elle wiped her face, "As much as I hate to admit it, you were probably the only person who could've convinced me to stay"

Hotch didn't reply. He didn't need to. Elle knew he understood. He probably expected her to understand too, but she hadn't been a profiler in a long time, and she had to ask,

"Do you hate me?"

Hotch looked at her with an almost betrayed look, "Greena- Elle. You were a good agent. You are a good person. I will never believe any different"

Elle knew it was inappropriate, weird, odd and downright uncharacteristic for both of them, she didn't care, what was he going to do? He wasn't her boss anymore. She jumped into him, hugging him and relished in the thing she didn't know she wanted to do until now.

Slowly, Hotch hugged her back, and to her surprise, he smoothed her hair down and kissed the top of her head.

She didn't know how long they stood that way but when she pulled back her tears were dry on her face.

"It was good to see you" Hotch said.

Elle knew it was a goodbye and she knew she had to say one back, "You too"

As if reading her thoughts, Hotch pulled a card out of his breast pocket as well as a pen, he scribbled a number down on it before passing it to her, "In case you lost my number"

Elle took it, "What happened to Haley" she stopped herself, "Jack is lucky to have had her"

Hotch looked at the ground, "So was I"

"Damn right" She stood for a few more seconds then turned before Hotch could, forcing herself to walk away.

"What's her name?" Hotch called after her. She turned,

"Uh- Penelope Erin, actually" at his raised eyebrows she pushed her hair behind her ear, "It means devotion and peace"

Hotch stared at her and she could've sworn she saw a tear fall down his face. He nodded, "Take care Elle"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. So she waved down another cab and drove to the airport, her eyes were dry until she got home and her daughter stumbled towards her on chubby legs. Elle sunk down to her and hugged her, brushing her dark hair down with her hand.

Her husband followed after, he knelt next to them, "How did it go?"

Elle laughed, "How would you feel about moving to DC?"

And they left it at that.

When Elle saw the next mention of the team on the news, she didn't feel guilty or angry or sad.

She felt happy and relieved.

It really was a cliche.


End file.
